Prisoner
by HellieEllie
Summary: An alternate take on who John Harrison actually was. John/OC


"Who the hell are you?"

"I am better."

"At what?"

"Everything."

* * *

"You will take me to see your prisoner," Lianna ordered, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism despite herself. "Immediately."

"I can't do that at this time ma'am. That requires authorization from the Captain," the officer assigned to escort the counselor answered.

"Then take me to the Captain," she replied, stopping from the brisk pace with which she'd been walking down the corridor. The small medical bag weighed heavy in her hands.

The junior officer stared at her blankly for a moment, disoriented by the authority with which she spoke. She looked much like any other Starfleet medical officer in her blue dress uniform and black boots, long dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. After considering the request for a moment, he stammered and nodded.

"Ensign," she poured on the charm, smiling, clearly sensing that she'd intimidated the young man, " I'm sure you'll understand this matter is of the utmost urgency. If you could please take me to the Captain at once, it would be most appreciated."

Their pace returned as he complied and led her to the brig, where the Captain had been attempting to interrogate the prisoner. The disquieted emotions she'd sensed since being beamed on board the Enterprise had become unmistakable as they reached the doorway. She stopped uncomfortably in her tracks. It was him, no doubt. She didn't need to see him to know.

The Ensign looked at her confused for a moment. "You can wait here ma'am, I'll fetch the Captain for you."

Empathic abilities were not required to sense the Captain's frustration upon entrance. The attempts to interrogate John Harrsion had lead to nothing but wordplay and agitation. Now, being torn away by an unknown medical officer apparently on orders from Admiral Barnett, only served to make things worse. James Kirk did not like being kept in the dark about anything.

Lianna eyed the Vulcan first officer with concern, curious at the depth of his telepathic abilities. They were clearly weakened, she guessed by what appeared to be his mixed heritage. Her Betazoid empathic and telepathic abilities are far superior to his, but she still hoped he would not prove to be a problem. She'd become quite skilled in the deceptive ability of masking her emotions and intent. It was a required of any Starfleet Intelligence officer, especially those with telepathic talents.

"Captain," she smiled, offering her hand.

"Counselor," he replied, reluctantly shaking her hand. "The ensign tells me you are on orders from Starfleet command to speak the prisoner? We don't have time for this right now."

"Captain, I'd request an audience with you in private."

"There is no time for this!"

"With all due respect, Captain," she replied, calmly handing him a datapad from her bag while eyeing the Vulcan. "In private, sir."

Kirk glanced at the datapad and reluctantly nodded toward Spock. He and Lianna took their leave into a private room outside of the brig's holding areas. As soon as the door closed behind them he threw the datapad down on the table in frustration.

"Starfleet Intelligence?," he questioned. "What do you know?"

"I'm not authorized to share information with you at this time," she replied curtly to the young Captain. He seemed in over his depth. She'd seen it before in her 15 years of service to Starfleet, most of which had been spent in covert operations with Starfleet Intelligence. Not a well liked, or trusted division within the organization for starship captains. They like to believe they have a measure of control in these situations. It is rarely the case, in her experience.

"Lives are at stake, here. I'm not interested in playing games."

"And how many more do you suspect may be lost if you keep me from my patient any longer, sir?" she said, closing the gap between them, her dark eyes locked on him with an urgent seriousness. "You will get no information from him, I can tell you that. But I may, if you let me do my work."

Desperate, he reluctantly agreed to her wishes despite being suspicious of the situation.

"A medical officer from Starfleet Intelligence? Are you his doctor or counselor?"

"Both. And I need to examine him in private. No guards. No monitoring."

"No. Absolutely not!," he refused again, "This man is a dangerous criminal. Hundreds of lives have been lost and no one knows how many more are at stake."

"Captain, the man in your brig is my patient," she directed, visibly losing her patience. "The information I need to gather from him is of a very sensitive nature, as I'm sure you'll understand. Not to mention doctor patient privilege. Now are you going to continue to delay my ability to do my work or do I need to contact the Admiral and explain that you aren't following the direct orders of a superior officer?"

Prideful he may be, Kirk was at an impasse and if allowing this woman to speak to the terrorist in his custody would be of any use, he'd have to let her try. Even if he was convinced she'd wind up dead at her patient's hands.

"Sick bay then. I'll have Harrison escorted in. You can have full access to the facilities. But make it quick, will you?"

"I'll do my best Captain. Thank you," she smiled, satisfied with her powers of persuasion.

The ensign returned to escort Lianna to sick bay, where she was given access to a private medical office with an operating table and a secure door. It was fairly spacious and nicely equipped, as was to be expected of the flagship Enterprise. A security officer would be posted outside, but no other personnel were to be allowed near the room.

"Is there anything I can get for you," a junior medical officer asked as Lianna tried to make herself comfortable.

"No, no thank you," she repeated. Once alone in the room, she let down her guard and stood nervously leaning on the table, resting her face in her hands. Despite her performance to the contrary, she had no idea what she was going to gain from seeing John again. But once she'd learned of his detainment following the attack on London, it was obvious she had to get back to him.

She heard the approach of the security officers escorting the prisoner to sick bay, and felt his emotions more strongly as they approached. He wasn't aware it was her, yet. There was a cold, calmness masking his rage. He was afraid of nothing, despite being held captive. He wasn't what you'd expect. Never was.

The door opened to a complement of armed guards in security uniforms, John Harrison in the center of them, shackled hands and feet. The rush of rage he felt beneath the surface as still as cold water, unapparent to anyone but Lianna. She swallowed nervously, diverting contact with his familiar pale blue eyes. Still in Starfleet issue black shirt and pants. She might have laughed at the irony in other circumstances.

The lead security officer grabbed his arm and pushed him into the room to sit on the edge of the exam table. Harrison silently glared back at the officer, pulling his arm away and taking his place. She looked at him awkwardly bound by oversized metal cuffs at his wrists.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked the officer, motioning to the restraints. "How am I supposed..."

"Yes," he interrupted rudely. "You have 15 minutes. I'll be waiting outside the door." He and the other security personnel took their leave, closing the door behind them. She followed behind to check the door was secured, standing for a moment, working up the nerve to look back at her patient.

Silence filled the room. Silence and anger. Silence and sadness. He wasn't going to give in easily. He wouldn't budge an inch for her. Not a word unless she would pry it out of him.

Turning back to him, she walked slowly over to stand before him on at the table. She wanted to scream at him, to cry, to beg him to explain. But all she managed to do was push back a black curl that had fallen into his eyes.

"John," she managed to speak. "What have you..."

"Why are you here?" he interrupted, coldly, pulling away.

"What have you done?" Lianna repeated, ignoring his question.

"I'm sure you know that already. You are in the business of information, are you not?" A small self-satisfied smile crept across his face.

"You've killed hundreds of people. Innocent people, John. People who had nothing to do with..." she trailed off, changing directions and speaking frantically. "Please, if you were to come with me. I could attempt to do something. To bargain on your behalf. I am your doctor, and they still trust me."

"What are you more afraid of Lianna?" he asked, vindictively. "That you will lose your job for misconduct with a patient, or that you will be charged a criminal for aiding me?"

"You!" she shouted, taken aback by his cruelty. "I'm most afraid of you."

"Why is that? I am what I was made to be. A weapon."

"I did no such thing and you know that, John!" she denied. "They misled me too. I tried..."

Lianna's last assignment with Starfleet Intelligence was as deeply classified as anything that had been done before. She was at the head of the medical team executing the operation and experiments, but the true nature and intent of the program had been hidden from even her. A mix of experimental drugs, genetic engineering, cybernetics and telepathic manipulation was being used in experiments on live subjects. The leaders of the program had told Lianna that the subjects were willing and had volunteered, in hopes of contributing to medical science and becoming better and stronger versions of themselves.

John was one of the most successful patients in the program. He'd been modified to show exceptional strength and resilience for a human, and had begun to unlock the beginnings of modified telepathy for humans. Lianna had been assigned to work with him as counselor, to monitor his emotional state and reactions to treatments. Much of the processes were excruciating and wholly unlike anything most humans had experienced. She administered the drugs required regularly and worked on relaxation techniques meant to open him up to her emotions with the hopes that eventually he'd also be able to read her thoughts.

As a Betazoid counselor, she'd had many years of experience bonding with patients. Even in more traditional cases, it was very common for the patient to develop an attachment to her that went beyond the professional. She'd dealt with it in the past easily and without getting attached. But the intensely open nature of her relationship with John was different. As she began to draw him out of himself, their attraction took on a life of its own. She was attracted to him and felt the entire project might be compromised because of it and wanted to resign. Begging her to stay on the project, and with him, John began to share glimpses of memories that were unfamiliar to him. It was as if he was living in someone else's body, he'd told her once.

Then the patients began to get sick. Many of them died suddenly and without clear cause. Lianna began to wonder if the project had gone too far, if the experiments were taking too much of a toll. The whole of Starfleet Intelligence danced the line of ethical dubiousness, of which most of the time wasn't a concern to her, but this felt different. She confronted the Admiral in charge of the program and learned the extent to which Starfleet Intelligence had overstepped its bounds. The strange flashes of memories that John had experienced were indeed his. Memories that had been stripped from him, coming back again. He, like most of the other patients, had not been taken into the program voluntarily. They'd been scouted as young Starfleet recruits, chosen based on physical and mental aptitude. Then they'd be taken from their lives, their families told they'd been killed in action, and had their memories modified or erased. The program wasn't meant to make their lives better, it was meant to craft them into perfect weapons for war.

Furious and disgusted, Lianna threatened to leave and out the project to Starfleet command. It broke every rule and regulation that had ever been established to protect the people of the Federation. If it came to light, it would be disastrous for everyone involved, including Lianna. Reluctantly, she agreed to stay on and see it through in hopes that the truth could be destroyed completely before she could take the opportunity to resign and leave Starfleet for good, washing her hands of the whole mess.

The thought that she had deceived and hurt John, possibly compromising his life in the process was too much to bear. She told him everything and swore to help him track down his family and return to his former life. His anger was unlike anything she'd experienced before. He was furious and heartbroken, trust betrayed by an organization that is supposed to help keep people safe and lied to by a woman he thought he'd grown to love.

In desperation, she'd helped him escape the facilities on the starbase where they were stationed for the project. Promising to find him once she was able to leave as well, they parted ways only but a few days previous. Then the reports came in. A starship had been hijacked and taken by an unknown terrorist who'd used it to launch a devastating attack on London. Another attack on San Francisco had been intercepted by the Enterprise who had detained the man responsible and were holding him for questioning. Lianna had pulled what strings she had left in Starfleet to get onto the ship and alone with him now.

"John," she pleaded, eyes beginning to well with tears. "You are dying. All of the... patients... are. You need to let me give you more of the drugs, until I can find a way to reverse it. All of it..."

"There's no going back," he replied blankly.

Composing herself, she dug into her medical bag to retrieve a tricorder. She scanned him briefly, tracking the cell damage that had occurred since he'd been off of the drugs from the program. Fumbling with the hypospray, she brushed his cheek and administered the shot on the side of his neck.

"You're right," she sighed, leaning in close to his ear to whisper. "But you care for me. You can't lie to me about that. It's not a luxury you have..."

"So what are you going to do Lianna? What future do you have here? Starfleet? It is a disgrace. Disgusting." He refused to acknowledge what she knew he was feeling. But he was right. There was no going back from here. Any hopes of the nature of Starfleet Intelligence's dealings not making it to light now were slim to none. He held the cards now, as much as she wished that wasn't true.

"What do you want me to do for you, John? I think your point has been made. The attacks have to stop. What do I need to do for you to stop all this madness?"

His smile was as cold as the answer.

"I need you to get me out of here."


End file.
